


An Act of Contrition

by tess_genor



Series: Sin and Confession [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angst, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Catholic Guilt, Confessional, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), implied only - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 17:51:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20586578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess_genor/pseuds/tess_genor
Summary: After Crowley released his true self on Aziraphale he seeks mercy and forgiveness. Aziraphale reveals his true form and Crowley recounts his time in Heaven.





	An Act of Contrition

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of, if not the longest, work I've ever written. I hope you all enjoy it! Please leave comments and let me know what you think! They really make my day.
> 
> Also! while writing this I was listening to a very specific version of the Ave Maria: Ave Maria arr. Bach's Prelude No.1 BWV 846 off the Baroque Music album. (Spotify Link: https://open.spotify.com/track/2QSEgcCWbdrlwyk7wPrtNN?si=kijxritrS36w14lkQulsjg ) if you want to hear what I heard while thinking and writing this piece. 

Crowley stood in his barren apartment. The cement felt more like a prison of his own making rather than the cool, modern walls they were. The only part that didn’t seem to comply to the collective theme was the throne in the middle of the room. The throne was ornate, to say the least. It had a crushed red velvet seat and back. The hand carved details on the wood were covered in gold. At the top of the back sat a crest of a long forgotten royal family. The back of the throne was flanked by two peaks, appearing as though they came out of the seated’s shoulders, and reached above their heads. One could attribute said chair to Crowley’s devastating loss after his fall. That he wanted to feel as though he was in power of his own existence. That he had some control. Or the odd piece of furniture was simply just Crowley craving some of the heavenly richness that had been denied him for so long. Though, if you asked him, Crowley would simply say that it was good for his back.

Every inch of his apartment was carefully appraised, analyzed, and angled to compliment his own aesthetic, and to keep out unwanted visitors. Yet, here was Aziraphale, waiting patiently in the doorway between the conservatory and the office.

Crowley hadn’t bothered to reach out to the worried being since that fateful night. The night he lost control. The night he took advantage of the angel’s kindness. The night he saw a flash of what could happen to Aziraphale if the two continued their... relations.

“My dear,” Aziraphale daren’t cross the threshold, not without permission, “I was worried when you missed our lunch yesterday.” Crowley jerked his head roughly as a signal to come in and Aziraphale rushed over to him. Ever bumbling, Aziraphale apologizes to the few plants he brushed into. Crowley looks away and rubs his temples from behind his glasses.

“I’m sorry I missed it, angel.” Crowley’s words were calculated. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it. Less was more when it came to Aziraphale.

“This isn’t about the other night is it, Crowley?” Aziraphale says as if Crowley wasn’t ready to condemn himself all over again for his actions. Crowley tries to hide any emotion threatening to cross his face and succeeds. However, Aziraphale knows all his tricks. “Oh dear Lord, it is!”

“Forget about it, angel.” Quickly turning on his heel, Crowley moves to behind his throne and tightly grips the two points on the back, as if holding a shield. His feet are planted away from the chair, causing the demon to pitch forward. He’s ready to retreat at any moment. Or attack.

“Oh, Crowley, please understand you did nothing wrong! I promised you that we’d stop if it got out of hand. You didn’t, and we didn’t stop. Please don’t beat yourself up over thi-“

“That’s not the point, angel!” Crowley’s breath shudders. He drops his head, hoping the rush of blood would clear his mind. “I’m not beating myself up, not when I was already punished for years.” He looks up. “I’m being cautious. I hurt you and bad. I can’t make that mistake again. Even my presence can be enough to do you harm.”

Aziraphale begins to creep towards Crowley, hoping the slow motion would disarm the already tense man. Crowley immediately spots the movement and loses his cool. A quick yank and the throne is twisted to the left, so that an arm touches both immortals, blocking Aziraphale’s path. A thrust of the lower jaw and Aziraphale steps back. The angel straightens his back, rights his chin, and promptly sits in the chair between him and the demon.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale tries to make eye contact. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” The kindness in Aziraphale’s voice never ceases to amaze Crowley. All the things he’s done, hurt he’s seen, hurt he’s _caused_, and yet Aziraphale finds a way to be gentle with him, as though he could possibly understand the anguish Crowley goes through. Aziraphale grips the arm rest tighter, twisting over his shoulder to face Crowley.

”Aziraphale, please, don’t. I don’t need you to try to make me feel better. I’m beyond heavenly help anyways.” Crowley’s voice is soft. He's scared. One misplaced syllable would cause his emotional walls to come down quicker than they did at Jericho. “I think it’s best if you leave.” Crowley finally looks at Aziraphale. Aziraphale reaches up with both hands, his fingers put slight pressure on the arms of Crowley’s glasses, and slides them off. That’s all it takes.

Crowley’s faces crumples. He fights to regain his composure. A battle of pain and determination ends quickly with a single tear rolling down his cheek. He closes his eyes. He knows that the tear won’t make it far, Aziraphale’s thumb is already there brushing it away. Crowley leans into the angel’s touch. It’s been so long since he’s had any compassion from anyone, let alone anyone associated with the Opposition.

”How can you stand to touch me?” Crowley makes no effort to pull away. “I’ve hurt you before. I will only hurt you again.” Crowley remembers all the times he caused Aziraphale pain. He starts at the physical pain he caused just days prior and works all the way back to going too fast, asking for what Aziraphale believed to be a suicide pill, and the greatest pain of all: allowing Aziraphale to ever know him in the first place. “There is no going back from my sins, Aziraphale. You still have a chance to right yours. You should leave. Forget we ever met. Save yourself. You have the ability to do what I never could.”

”I’m staying here with you. You’re in pain.” Aziraphale whispered. “You’re in so much pain, aren’t you?”

Crowley laughs through his tears. “The sins at my back would kill me if I turned around, angel. If I could die that is. They’re more than enough to condemn me over, and over, and over.” Crowley finally pulls away from the warm hand against his face. “There’s no forgiveness in store for me.”

He begins to pace in front of Aziraphale on the throne. “God’s given these humans ways to return to grace. Why do they get to return Home when I’ve been locked out? They’ve marvelous systems in place. Ways to show remorse and be cleansed. Mulsims are able to clear their immortal soul through true sorrow, a conviction to change, and acts of faith to follow up.” Crowley stops walking about to gesture at Aziraphale. “Jewish people have a whole holiday dedicated to repentance. They go around for ten days apologizing and asking forgiveness not only from the Almighty but even from other humans they’ve wronged. A litany of prayers stating all they’ve done wrong and then boom, God seals you into the Book of Life and you’re blessed for the next year! It’s incredible. Haven’t I shown true remorse? Heaven and Hell alike know that I never intended to fall.” Aziraphale wants to talk, to tell Crowley it will be ok, but he can’t lie, not to him. “Christians, sick bastards the whole lot of them. It’s a shame how easy they are to torture, they spend their lives on Earth torturing theirsleves just to have us have a go at it once they’re dead. Their repentance is a funny one, isn’t it. Sadists and masochists for going through with it, if you ask me. Having to go to a religious authority, look them in the eyes as you say your darkest sins, then the priest goes and tells you that you will only be cleaned of your sin after performing a special task that he decides to be the equal opposite of what you’ve confessed. Do you know what they say, angel? They say, ‘Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended, Thee.’ Is that not exactly my case? I offended God, I know I did! Why won’t those words work me for? I’ve tried over, and over, and over.” Crowley stops talking abruptly.

”Crowley,” Aziraphale doesn’t even try to cover the surprise in his voice, “do you pray still?”

Crowley faces away from the angel. His arms wrap around his stomach, gripping his sides. He hangs his head. “Hell would obliterate me if they found out, but I could never bring myself to stop. I couldn’t abandon my God. Even if She abandoned me.”

There is nothing Aziraphale could or would say, for that matter. He couldn’t imagine losing his grace and then seeing beings below him earn easier forgiveness than him. “Have you tried it, love?” Crowley looks over at Aziraphale with skepticism on his face, but intrigue in his eyes. “Have you tried a true Confessional?”

”I’ve only tried Confession in theory. I can’t go into a church, but Protestants have private confession anyhow. Plus, Judaism and Islam don’t require a religious figure. I just thought it was worth a shot, but…” He trails off, staring intensely at Aziraphale.

”But… what?” Aziraphale does not see Crowley’s intentions. 

”You’re a holy, religious figure. A principality no less! I could try confessing to you, if you would allow it.” Crowley, suddenly tempted by the idea of salvation, drops to his knees. “Aziraphale, it could work.” Aziraphale, still sitting, worries at his lip.

”I’m not sure I could pardon you, dear.” Aziraphale never tried to work within repentance before, that was a different department. “As a principality I’ve mostly worked within guarding, the gate, large groups of people, the pillars of knowledge.”

”But you’re still in touch with God! You could be a middleman of sorts. Please, angel, I need to try.” Crowley was desperate. If he wasn’t already on his knees he would have fallen to them then.

Aziraphale was too scared to move from the throne. He played his fear off as helping to aid the authoritative air he thought Crowley expected. “Crowley, if you cannot reach God, what are you hoping for then?” Aziraphale wanted all his bases covered 

“Then maybe you can forgive me? Accept me for what I am.” 

“Well then, let’s get started shall we?” Aziraphale rolled his shoulder back. Crowley froze where he was. Aziraphale coughed as a signal. Ever so slowly, Crowley brought his right hand to his forehead, then his chest, his left shoulder followed by his right. He winces each time his hand touches his body.

”This is my first confession.”

“Demon Crowley, you have come seeking my aid. Why?” 

Crowley gulps, “I have a great number of sins. I want to repent and seek forgiveness.” 

“A great many? I think you better begin then, dear.” It wasn’t often Aziraphale took the lead in anything the two of them did. He didn’t want to let Crowley down. 

“Should I start at the beginning?” Crowley hadn’t given this much thought. It was just like him to rush into something woefully unprepared. 

”Start wherever you think most fitting.”

”My best friend, the only thing I’ve ever felt connected to, I hurt him. A few nights ago. I lost control of myself and wounded him, almost beyond repair.” Crowley refuses to look at Aziraphale, who decides to play along, as if Aziraphale is not both the friend in question as well as the one hearing the confession.

”This friend of yours, why did you hurt him?” He was going easy on Crowley. They both knew he was.

”He had asked me to.” Crowley replied simply. 

”So you were following through on a pact between friends then. How is this a sin of yours?” Aziraphale hoped that his intention, to help Crowley realize what he had done was perfectly okay, would get through to Crowley.

”I, uh, I don’t, maybe because, well,” Crowley struggled to find a way to explain himself. “I can’t forgive myself for what I did to him. I nearly killed him.”

”Does he forgive you?” They both knew the answer.

”Yes.” Crowley finally looks up.

”Then it is not a sin, you must forgive yourself to relieve your guilt. There is nothing more I can do on that front.” Crowley began to frantically look around the room. Aziraphale was moving things along much quicker than he expected him to. He wasn’t ready to give himself up just yet.

”I’m a demon, isn’t that a sin in itself?” Crowley was starting small. But the wound was still fresh.

”Existence is not a sin.” Aziraphale tried his best to remain somewhat impartial, but he was worried where Crowley would take this. “You must come to terms with being alive.”

”My existence is the very cause for suffering on a global scale. It’s my job, no my duty, to bring nothing but misery, to make others cause pain, to be the catalyst for others to sin.” Crowley’s brow furrowed. “I..” his voice lowers so much that Aziraphale is not sure if he actually hears Crowley say _oh my God_. Crowley immediately buries the thought. “I have lied to my superiors, about my ministries here on Earth. Claiming responsibility for acts that were not my own doing.” 

”Do not think you can confess one sin to hide a much graver, mortal one.” Aziraphale knew he had indeed heard Crowley invoke God when Crowley’s eyes went wide.

”I am a bad influence on a being that should be pure.” He takes a deep breath and inches closer to Aziraphale. “There is an angel, my friend, the same one from before. I’ve had him do horrible things that brought trouble for himself and others.” Aziraphale cocks his head and waits for Crowley to continue. “I’ve made him perform demonic miracles and temptations, all because I was too lazy to perform them myself. Not only did I slack off on my job, I made him go against his own Head Office, values, and conscience.” Crowley moves closer yet again. “I ask impossible things of him, like running away, which he always turns down. But sometimes,” a shaky breath,”he goes through with it. Like when I asked him for holy water. It caused a rift in our friendship, caused him great emotional turmoil because he thought I was going to use it to off myself. Afterwards I avoided him him by sleeping for years.” Another inch. “I’ve encouraged him to enjoy the pleasures and sins of the flesh. It started small, I mostly used it to trick him into spending time with me. A dinner here, a coffee there, nothing too bad. But I became greedy. I wanted more of his time, I wanted more of him.” He pushes forward yet again. “My intentions turned from bad to worse. Suddenly, I grew tired of food bringing such lovely noises from him. I wanted to be the reason for the pleasure he found here on Earth.” Crowley opens his mouth to speak, but it is not words that come out, it’s a sob. “I’m leading him down a path similar to my own. I’m going to cause another angel to fall.” Crowley collapses on himself, arms covering the back of his head, head resting on his legs, knees brushing up against Aziraphale’s feet. Aziraphale bends down and places a hand on Crowley’s head.

”Crowley, lift your head and look at me.” When Crowley does not follow through Aziraphale rustles his hair. “Look at me, Crowley.” Refusing to hurt Aziraphale more than he already has, he complies. “I am not worried about you contaminating my soul, dear boy. God will not punish you for what will not happen.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Aziraphale. It's you!” Crowley’s voice is hoarse from tears and pushing out words he didn’t think he would ever say. “I’m scared, angel. I’ve already fallen. God can no longer do anything to me. But to you? God can take Her anger out on you to get to me. I don’t want to be the reason you end up like me. I can't bear to think that I’ll be responsible for you falling too. Not when I haven’t even come to terms with my own fall.”

“I haven’t fallen though, dear. I still have all my might.” Aziraphale gives Crowley a broken smile. Crowley has tears coating his eyes, making the reptilian eyes more human. He closes them. He does not believe that Aziraphale will be okay, or that it would not be his fault.

”Watch, dear, and see just how steadfast I am.”

Aziraphale closes his eyes and a peaceful look graces his face. He moves his arms to rest comfortably on the wooden ones of the throne. Aziraphale takes a deep breath and it begins. It starts off with a small glow, encompassing every part of him. To a mere mortal it would have been blinding, enough to kill if the human was as close as Crowley was. It’s a warm light, in color and heat, comfortable and comforting. Aziraphale’s standard outfit takes up the glow stronger than the rest of him, melting into one piece of white fabric that is carefully draped and folded around Aziraphale. In his left hand, a piece of the light catches between his fingers. It sputters and grows brighter until it begins to stretch. It shoots from either side of his hand. The angel circles his hand around it and Crowley watches in awe as it turns into a golden scepter reaching from the floor and almost hits the ceiling. The halo perfectly framing and illuminating Aziraphale’s hair begins to sink, and with it Crowley’s heart- his worst fear was coming true. As the halo moved lower, it was parallel to the floor and finally settled on Aziraphale’s head. Then the halo’s light grew upwards in a pattern similar to lace. Crowley can’t help but to gasp, Aziraphale’s halo had transformed into a crown. Behind him, the glow began to move and condense, almost like a neon sign outlining his wings. Compared to other angels, a principality’s wings were a bit odd. They opened more than they were long. When relaxed, this gave the appearance of staying in line with their shoulders and ending behind the knee. This was due to the fact that principalities were also known as rulers and larger wings often got in the way of thrones. Aziraphale opens his eyes and looks down to where Crowley is seated. ”Be not afraid, Crowley, all is well.”

Crowley had forgotten what angels look like in their true form. Beings of love and energy, he remembered that part, but the terror that comes with it. It’s impossible to not have some fear stricken into him though. The power that Aziraphale had released within himself from this transformation. Crowley struggled to remember his life before he fell. You could easily tell what type of angel someone was by their form. Archangels have their distinctive wings coming up from behind their shoulders in two peaks, reaching over their head. Seraphims were easy to identify with their six wings and all. More than that Crowley could not remember. If it was due to a willful forgetfulness, which was most likely, the effect of time, or something done by higher ups to make Hell seem like home. One thing he did remember, clearly, were the prayers, the praise.

Crowley was caught up in Aziraphale’s glory and forgot the situation at hand.

”Crowley, the prayer, if you please.” Aziraphale’s voice boomed throughout the room and off the cold walls of the flat, but Crowley heard it as though Aziraphale was in his mind.

”Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee,”

_Why must they suffer so? He had cried. He did not understand why God would create these beings, assign him to heal them, just to watch them do horrible things to themselves. God had responded by saying that their suffering was a test. To prove that they love Her. This was foreign to him. He was a being of love, of course he could not understand not loving his Creator. But the pain they would go through. He couldn’t help himself, he was a being of love after all. These new things, these humans, they were under his protection, he loved them. He asked again, why must they suffer so? God was not pleased. She had made Herself clear before with the others. Her will was not to be questioned. He was trying Her patience, he knew that. But he just wanted to understand, to know, why this was how it had to be. She did not answer him a second time._

”And I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishments,”

_He knew it was coming. Other angels would clear from his path. He saw the stolen glances and heard the hushed whispers. ‘He is the one who dared to question the Almighty.’ He was not surprised. Not when he was summoned. Not when he was found guilty. And not when he heard his sentence, why should he be any different than the others? He was to fall and join those who followed Lucifer. It was his last night in Heaven, at dawnbreak he was to be stripped of his title, his name forbidden from being spoken, and then he would fall. He tried to say goodbye to the few friends he had left, but they would not see him. It was out of fear for themselves he knew, but he wished for one last act of kindness from his brothers and sisters. He didn’t sleep, he didn’t need to, but he didn’t want to either. He looked out at the universe he had helped make. He said one last prayer, ‘Watch over the stars, they’re so fragile for their size. Temperamental too I suppose.’ He then headed to the edge of the Silver City. Gabriel reached and swiped the halo from above his head, its light went out and it turned a dull grey, and brittle. Oh, it was so brittle, it crumbled under Gabriel’s hands. He had opted to fall over himself, rather than being carted out. If he was going to fall, he was going to fall on his own, not at the hands of someone else. He was instructed to walk to the end and have his wings open. He stood, hands behind his back, wings open at their full glory, coming up from his shoulders and making two peaks above his head. He looked out at the nothingness below him. Michael walked over and he braced himself for a bittersweet goodbye. Instead he was met with the cool metal of shears. Michael had clipped his wings. He was to fall, unaided in any way. The only thing that would stop him was to be the floor of the Pit. He looked over his shoulder, not as a plea, but as a look of understanding. He didn’t know why what he had done was wrong, but he was going to accept his punishment with all the grace God had given him. With a nod from Metatron he stepped forward. At first it felt like flying, the weightlessness, but he wasn’t in control. And there was no soaring, there was only down, down, down. The further he fell, the quicker he went. As he rushed, he began to burn. At first it was nothing more than a warmth but it soon became unbearable. Flames grasped at his wings, shredding the already useless feathers. The fire moved on from his wings, which had turned from a soft cream color to charcoal black, and moved on to the rest of him. He worried he would land as a pile of ash, but he felt his skin growing course, scales emerging to protect him from the flames. The fire was loud in his ears, reaching inside him and burning everything he held dear. The flames came out of his mouth, rendering him unable to do anything but scream. He saw Hell approaching and how he wished it would end him, that the unholy fire consuming him would leave him weak, he would crash and disintegrate. He was not so lucky. The ground rushed up to meet him and he skidded along his left side until he stopped at the feet of the first of the fallen. His whole being ached with pain and loss, he had never felt such things before, he thought it couldn’t get any worse. Satan stood up over him, Satan’s black eyes digging into his, ‘Welcome to your new home, Crawley.’ He vomited and curled up on himself. All his pain had tripled. He missed home._

”But most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who are all-good and deserving of all my love.”

_He remembers the day he first came into existence. God had made him with Her own hands. She had removed the dark from his eyes and he looked up into Hers. He smiled up at Her. She was so warm, he was comfortable in Her hands, he basked in Her love. She told him all Her plans for the universe. How much he loved being in Her presence. She needed his help to build something as eternal as the universe. He felt needed, wanted by Her. She taught him how to make stars, She laughed and called him a quick learner. He had beamed and told his brothers and sisters, they congratulated him. There was no need for competition, She had more than enough love for all of them. He remembers when he was first told that he could share Her love with a new creation. God had called him and six others in one day. She told them that She was planning on a new creation: humans. Each of them were to be charged with a different aspect of their life. The Almighty saved his job for last. ‘You are to love them as I love you. Care for them. Make sure they are well.’ How honored he was. He loved the Lord for Her kindness, for Her brilliance, for Her eternal love. Now he would get to outpour God’s love on others. On a new creation that could love back. How wonderful it was. He did not know he would never get to do his job._

”I firmly resolve, with the help of Your grace, to sin no more, and to avoid the nearer occasion of sin. Amen.”

Each word stung as bad as each memory. By the time he had finished the prayer his mouth had gone dry. It ached with every blessed syllable that blasphemed off his tongue. His mouth tasted of chalk and bile. Demons were not supposed to pray, they were not allowed to pray. Crowley was never one for rules. Tears ran down his cheeks, untouched by Aziraphale. Crowley longed for the love he had lost and Aziraphale wanted to help but knew he couldn’t. The two of them were striving for the forbidden and coveting what was denied them.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Crowley, I cannot speak for God, but I forgive you for your sins. It took true bravery to confess to them, and I am sure that God does see how much you regret them all.” Crowley sniffled, he was a fool to ever think that he could be redeemed. “For your penance I think it’s best if you do an act of kindness, one that mirrors God’s love. You may not use any miracles, demonic or otherwise. This must come from the goodness of your heart and it must be something you want to do.” Aziraphale’s words broke Crowley from his daze.

”A good deed, that’s it?” Crowley thought it would’ve been something much more difficult. Repair a fallen religious monument, perform a few miracles, anything along those lines. Aziraphale, as if reading his mind, shook his head.

”Crowley, your guilt over your sins is destroying you. Your penance needs to be something that can help you feel better about yourself. You are to perform a good deed with the same amount of love that God would use.” Aziraphale made himself quite clear. Crowley knew now that Aziraphale’s thought process was not tainted by the time he spent with the angel. His true form proved that. If Aziraphale thought that a loving, good deed was the best way to repent then he would do it.

Aziraphale stood up from the throne, looking a great deal embarrassed when he grew in size to fill the room. He had forgotten that in true form he adjusts to his surroundings and he changed from a size that would be comfortable in the chair to one that dominated the office. Crowley sat up on his knees and rubbed a sleeve over his face trying to dry it off. He was eye level with Aziraphale’s hips. He had an idea.

”This good deed, it could be anything?” Crowley had a glint to his eye. Aziraphale played it off as residue tears.

”As long as you don’t use any miracles, it’s something you want to do, and you do it with great love, then yes. It can be anything.” Aziraphale thought he had been clear enough.

”Well, then I’m going to suck you off.” Crowley grinned up at Aziraphale.

”Crowley, really!” Aziraphale chided. “You just finished a sacrament not moments ago and you are thinking about sex? I thought even you would have known better.”

”Well think about it, angel. I’ll do it miracle free, I swear on the Bently. I want to suck you off, so it checks that too. And most of all, it has to be a good deed that’s done with love. I love you and want to show you how much I love you. This qualifies as my penance.” Crowley seemed very pleased with himself. “If you don’t want a blow job you should’ve specified that sex acts don’t count.”

”I didn’t think I _needed_ to.” Aziraphale was beyond disappointed. He was tired. “Crowley you forget, I barely have a corporeal body in true form.” Crowley should not do this. Aziraphale was trying to convince himself that it didn’t count. Yet Crowley made valid points that it did.

”Come on.” Crowley’s hands began to pull at the fabric around the angel. “You could have a dick right now if you wanted to.” Crowley knotted the fabric on itself. “Please, Aziraphale?” Crowley’s eyes begged. He truly wanted to do this. Aziraphale gave in and Crowley watched happily as the glow brightened where Aziraphale’s hips would have been and dimmed, revealing a more human body. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

”Are you really making a penis joke right now?” Aziraphale had a smirk on his lips nonetheless.

”By right now, you mean before I literally put your penis in my mouth?” Crowley retorted back.

”Alright, let’s just get on with this then.” Aziraphale clutched his scepter tighter.

Crowley wriggled his eyebrows. “Eager are we?” He earned a stern look from the celestial above him and decided there was no time like the present.

Crowley removed his hands from behind Aziraphale’s back and traced along his hips. Slowly he brought one hand to the member in front of him. Gently, he curls his fingers around Aziraphale and pulls him upwards. He leans forward, mouth slightly parted, and with all the control he can muster, softly mouths under the top. Aziraphale breathes out in short puffs, he’s never partaken in the more _human activities_ while in his true form. Crowley takes this as a sign of encouragement and gets a little more aggressive with his work. He begins to move up and down the underside of Aziraphale’s cock. He can feel him hardening in his hand and slowly began to make small strokes along the staff.

Aziraphale was about to miracle a tiny bit of lube, which technically would not have broken any rules, when Crowley removed his hand and spit into it. Aziraphale made a face. “I have spit in my mouth and your dick is about to also be inside my mouth, don’t be like that.” Crowley mocked at the angel. Aziraphale went to speak but all words got caught in his throat once Crowley began to properly jerk him off.

Quicker than Aziraphale would care to admit, he was fully hard. Crowley started off slow once again, with just the tip, twirling his tongue around and around, driving the principality mad. Crowley knew Aziraphale like the back of his hand. He knew what Aziraphale wanted by each little sound or breath he made, but most importantly he knew what he liked and didn’t. He knew as much as it drove Aziraphale crazy, he loved it when Crowley took his time and Crowley intended to tonight. This was his act of kindness, his good deed, one he had to do with love. They always say actions speak louder than words and Crowley wanted to show Aziraphale just how much he loved him.

The demon proceeded. His jaw went slack. Slowly, carefully, he bobbed his head. With each movement another bit of Aziraphale had entered Crowley. Aziraphale said no miracles and Crowley would respect that, what he did not say, however, was that he had to follow the rules of physics that apply to human bodies. Crowley’s tongue was, by nature, more prehensile than that of his human counterparts. Crowley used this little trick of anatomy to his advantage as he circled his tongue around the angel.

Aziraphale grunted low at the back of his throat. Crowley looked up at the being he loved. He tried to put as much emotion as he could into his eyes, worrying that their complexion would mask his feelings. Aziraphale looked quite devine in his true form, Crowley couldn’t help but to fall for this man. When Aziraphale unscrunched his eyes and saw Crowley he breathed in. There was nothing Aziraphale would not do for this man. Without warning, Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale pulling him closer, pulling the angel completely into him. He hummed three short notes for the principality to hear and feel. A middle note, a high note, and a low note. “I love you”. He was humming “I love you” over, and over, and over to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale, head thrown back, was gasping for air. Holy, holy, and a few other choice four lettered words filled his mind. To experience Crowley’s talent while in true form felt like nothing the two had ever done before. Using a great amount of concentration he looked at the being at his feet. Crowley had seemed to gone frenzied, needing, wanting to have as much of Aziraphale as he possibly could. Smirking, Aziraphale lifted his scepter and held it in both hands across his chest. He then brought the cool metal to the back of Crowley’s neck. The freezing touch of the gold was enough to ground the demon. Crowley whimpered and pleaded with his eyes. Aziraphale nodded and used the scepter to guide Crowley closer to him. Crowley was not human. He did not need to breathe. They stayed like that for quite some time, Crowley clinging onto Aziraphale and Aziraphale pulling Crowley against him.

After what felt like forever, Aziraphale made a noise that sounded like choking. Crowley loved these sounds, he was the only thing in the universe that could cause Aziraphale to sound like that. Crowley refused to let go of Aziraphale, even after the scepter returned to the ruler’s left hand. Crowley was there, swallowing down around Aziraphale even as he orgasmed. It had burned going down his throat. Demons were not supposed to consume holy material, including but not limited too: blessed wine, eucharist, foods associated with holidays, and as Crowley just learned, an angel’s release.

Aziraphale transformed to his human form. While he had been mostly composed as his true self, he was flushed bright red and nearly dripping with sweat. He joined Crowley on the floor. Crowley’s eyes were closed and he was muttering under his breath. Aziraphale didn’t dare to ask what he was saying, though he was certain it was a long forgotten prayer based on how Crowley’s face contorted.

Aziraphale reached for the demons waist and attempted to undo the buttons but was quickly swatted away.

”This wasn’t about me, angel. I’m okay. I just wanted to make you happy.” Crowley’s face rested on Aziraphale’s chest and Aziraphale hugged him closer.

”I do hope that you got something out of this, dear.” Aziraphale’s voice grumbled in his chest, tickling Crowley’s face.

Crowley began to cry once more. He could forgive himself, one day, perhaps. Maybe. But for now he cried. He cried harder and harder and Aziraphale sat with him and held him. It was a sin that he and Aziraphale met, no one could convince him otherwise. It was a sin, in every meaning, that Aziraphale knew Crowley, every part of him.

Crowley had just barely managed to skirt around what his greatest sin was. His greatest sin was that of the first humans, the ones that he was supposed to watch over, the ones that were his first temptation: seeking knowledge.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok there's a ton of stuff I have to include here. You don't have to read through it all but there's a few things I need to touch upon.
> 
> First off, all the christian stuff was based on my own experiences within the catholic church, I apologize for any generalizing. The information about judaism was found from me talking to my jewish friends and having them make sure that what I was saying was accurate and not offensive. Any information on islam was found online, I apologize if it is not correct or insensitive (if it is please lmk and I will fix it).
> 
> Second of all, I borrowed a lot of quotes from other people and things so here's a brief "bibliography" of all the references. "The sins at my back would kill me if I turned around" is from Penny Dreadful. "You must come to terms with being alive" is a paraphrase of a tumblr post (follow me @proton-photon-crouton). "Do not confess one sin to hide a greater, mortal one" is a quote from the paper Love Your Monsters (a critical paper on Frankenstein) by Bruno Latour. Lastly, "Striving for the forbidden and coveting what is denied" is a quote from Ovid.
> 
> I wanted to strongly imply that Crowley was Raphael before he fell, but I do understand some people don't like that theory, so it is only implied. The name Raphael, and Crowley's pre-fall name, is actually never mentioned. It was important to me, that while it was heavy handed on my part, that it could be left up to reader interpretation.
> 
> Lasty, this series as a whole was totaly inspired by the marvelous writing of user JMA. If you haven't read any of their works I highly suggest it! Show them some love, they're cranking stuff out left and right and their works really grabbed me and pulled me from my writer's block.
> 
> If you made it this far props to you! Thanks for sticking it through and thanks for reading :)


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